by Tony Kowalski 
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

Wrestling fans often look back on the era known as "The Monday Night Wars" with a kind of wistful remembrance. It was a golden age, when competition between the then-WWF and the now-defunct WCW drove them each to unparalleled heights of fiscal and creative success. But now, WCW is gone, and all we have is the legacy of the past.
 
That legacy is not all that great, if you ask me. When this competition began, there were two groups of real winners. The fans were the first, because they got to reap the benefits of picking from two shows trying to best each other. The second group was the wrestlers. They now had some leverage at the bargaining table, as they could jump from company to company looking for the better money and the better push.  Hell, they didn't even have to be all that good for one company, yet the other (usually WCW) would still gobble them up.
 
This led to what probably seemed like a good business idea at the time: the copyrighting of "gimmicks." If one company's creative team came up with the character for a given wrestler, that character was the property of the company, not the wrestler. Like I said, it made sense at the time. It was bad business practice to invest time and money in the creation of a viable character only to have him reap the rewards of your investment when working for the other company.
 
Thus, if I went on television and claimed to be a surly plumber named "T.L. Hopper," not only would I be in need of severe psychological treatment, I would have to pay the WWE royalties. Or they could sue me for doing that.
 
Frankly, I think if the situation ever came up, I'd deserve to sue them.
 
That was an extreme example. Even the Yeti-manufacturing WCW would have never touched T.L. Hopper. But this situation did arise during the now-infamous defections of Scott Hall and Kevin Nash. The WWE held the rights to the "Razor Ramon" and "Diesel" gimmicks, so those two had to wrestle under their own names, while the WWE made the incredibly tacky move of trying to foist those gimmicks on other wrestlers who bore only a passing resemblance to the men who made the characters famous.
 
Again, this is an extreme example. The WWE learned that compromising storylines and credibility to get into a pissing contest wasn't the brightest move, and Scott Hall and Kevin Nash really didn't need those gimmicks. For the most part, they were playing themselves, and the WWE couldn't copyright their natural personalities. It's like when Saul Zaentz tried to sue John Fogarty for sounding too much like Creedence Clearwater Revival (that's the band he used to front, for all you ignorant savages). Scott Hall was struck with the minor inconveniences of having to not sound as Cuban and rename his finisher. While the "Outsider Edge" was an incredibly lame and awkward sounding title, it didn't really affect his ability to get over.
 
Here's my point, and I admit, it's a tad bit selfish because it concerns a wrestler I like. Not every wrestler who was given a trademarked "gimmick" was really being themselves. Some wrestlers, if they wanted to jump, would have to completely reinvent themselves or suffer the indignity of a similar gimmick that just wasn't quite the same or as good as the original. To say that V.K. Wallstreet was no Irwin R. Shyster may not being saying a lot, but you get my point.
 
This brings us to my man, Dustin Runnels. He has to go by Dustin Runnels now that he's going to be let go, because the WWE owns the rights to his "Goldust" gimmick. I repeat: trademarked gimmicks made sense during the Monday Night Wars, but guess what? The war is over, and the WWE won! The WWE is no longer preventing a competing company of comparable force in the market from reaping the benefits of their investment; they are preventing Dustin Runnels and other wrestlers like him from finding steady, successful work.
 
The WWE is now the only significant nationwide game in town. Who cares if "Goldust" wrestles in MLW or NWA: TNA? If we've learned nothing from watching the career of this man, it's that he has a lot of trouble getting over without the "Goldust" gimmick. He usually ends up getting shoved into an angle with his father, and I feel confident about saying that those are generally a dead end. 
 
Fuck the creative team: Dustin Runnels is Goldust. Only Dustin Runnels can be Goldust. While he doesn't act and dress like that (I hope) when he's not wrestling, it's his voice and his mannerisms and his willingness to completely devote himself to the role that made Goldust. Goldust belongs to him every bit as much if not more than it belongs to some script writer from the 1990s WWF. They gave him a wig, a suit and a concept. He gave the character his heart and soul and gave us a laundry list of entertaining memories. It's not like the WWE is going to dress Tommy Dreamer as Goldust (I hope) and send him out there. They've learned their lesson on that account.
 
So what is the point of holding on to the copyright? Do they list it as an asset for stockholder reports? Does Vince McMahon.... (Scratch that; too scary.) Does Shane McMahon like to put on the suit after work and get freaky with Marissa? Why anyone other than Dustin Runnels would want to claim ownership of Goldust baffles me nearly as much as the phenomenon known as the fish taco.
 
Vince McMahon, stop being such an egomaniacal monopolistic fuckrod and let Dustin have the gimmick. You know that Goldust isn't going to put NWA: TNA over the top or get them a national TV deal. All it is going to do is allow Dustin Runnels a good shot at continued successful work and his fans to continue seeing him. The WWE is going to survive without Goldust, but Dustin Runnels might not.

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